


Cigarette

by E_Scribble



Category: Topp Dogg (Band)
Genre: Angst, Bjoo falls for Hansol uh oh, Fake/Pretend Relationship, JUST, Jealousy, M/M, Sex, Wet Dream, hopefully some humor idk im trying to make at least someone smile, there is sex but idk what kind yet enough to be specific, unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-07-29 11:22:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7682554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/E_Scribble/pseuds/E_Scribble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Hansol convinces Byungjoo that pretending to date in order to invoke jealousy from the girl he likes is the best way to get her to date him. Hansol forgot to mention how shitty this plan was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Give Me

**Author's Note:**

> hahahahahaha i fucking live for not only a cliche plot line but also a cliche title lets get this shitfest going shall we

Byungjoo bit down onto his lip, eyes barely visible above the thin coffee menu in his hands. Myeong was sitting a few tables down, her soft hair pulled into a casual bun. She was reading a book, her legs crossed at the ankles, her skirt tucked perfectly. Byungjoo had first noticed her a couple weeks ago, while he and Hansol sipped slowly on their lukewarm coffee. Hansol had actually been the one to point her out, chewing absently on the end of his straw.

“Hasn’t that girl been here before? Like a lot? Aren’t we supposed to be the only regulars here?” He rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to chewing on his straw. Byungjoo had been hooked on her ever since. He figured out her name by having Hansol dig into the trash to grab her old coffee cup. Myeong. An elegant, sophisticated name.

Now, though, Byungjoo was alone and waiting for Hansol to arrive, unable to find the courage to do anything until his whiny better half threw his arm around his shoulders with a hoarse laugh and sharp grin. So he continued to watch her, lower lip caught between his teeth, thinking of how he could get her attention.

There was a soft chime, and Byungjoo looked to the door to see Hansol walking slowly in, wrapped in a soft hoodie and loose black sweatpants, the chill of November still curled around his ankles. He pushed his hoodie off with a shake of his hair, and the next thing he did was scan the shop for Byungjoo. When his eyes landed on the hunched boy, they lit with amusement and he shook his head, that quick-lipped grin flashing briefly before disappearing again.

“Myeong Coffee Cup is never going to become more than just Myeong Coffee Cup if all you do is continue to stare at her behind a damn coffee menu,” Hansol said, sliding into his seat and snatching the menu out of Byungjoo’s hands, waving it hostilely in front of his face.

“Her name is not Myeong Coffee Cup,” Byungjoo protested with a scowl. “Your stupid nicknames don’t bother me.”

Hansol rolled his eyes and stood up. Byungjoo quickly removed his eyes from the girl to focus his standing figure. “You’re not really leaving because I said that, are you?”

Hansol frowned in slow confusion down at him. “I’m just going to order my coffee, relax. Continue to stare at Coffee Cup and I’ll be back before you know it.”

Byungjoo, soothed now, waved Hansol away impatiently. “Okay, yes, go now.”

When he glanced back to Myeong, though, she was already looking at him. His heart froze, then leapt into his throat where it proceeded to beat wildly. He felt his mouth open just slightly and he knew he had been staring at her too long but he couldn’t look away, and neither could she, it seemed. Finally, she glanced down with a shy blush, and Byungjoo’s entire face ignited right along with hers. He was scrambling for something to do, pick at the table, pretend to drop his phone, look out the window, when she stood up and began to walk towards him.

He made a small sound of surprise, unable to look away as she approached him.

“Hello,” she said when she came to a stop in front of him, her voice soft and unobtrusive, hands held politely in front of her as she dropped into a slight bow.

“Oh, he-hello, hi,” Byungjoo stuttered, standing much too quickly and knocking into the table. The rattle made him flinch, and Myeong laughed, charmed.

She tucked a stray strand of silky hair behind her ear and cleared her throat. “So, I’ve noticed recently that you and that man over there have been coming here for a while, and I have been, too. And I caught you looking at me a few times, and, um, I was just wondering if maybe I could have your number? Just because, you know, we’re regulars, and…” she trailed off at Byungjoo’s expression, shocked and wide-eyed. “Unless, unless you and that man are, ah, dating?”

Byungjoo opened his mouth to protest when an arm was slung forcefully over his shoulder, yanking him closer. Hansol’s soft hair tickled Byungjoo’s neck as he smiled widely over at Myeong.

“Oh we certainly are! Three months now, he’s the cutest.” Hansol’s lips were then pressed against Byungjoo’s cheek and he stopped breathing for one single second, then pulled back abruptly, confusion curling tightly around the base of his neck and settling heavy in his skull. For some reason though, he found himself remaining silent instead of denying Hansol’s lie.

Hansol laughed, earnestly this time, and slid Byungjoo a knowing smirk. Then he turned his attention back to Myeong, who was pink in the face and gap-mouthed. “I didn’t catch your name, honey,”

“M-Myeong,” she answered quickly bowing stiffly to Hansol.

“I’m Hansol, it’s so nice to meet you. But anyways, of course you can have Byungjoo’s number! We’re the only regulars here, after all.” Hansol’s arm slid from Byungjoo’s shoulder down to his waist, his hand resting comfortably on his hip. Byungjoo bit his lip in response, eyes darting down to Hansol’s hand before they landed on Myeong’s face once more.

“Oh, of course. Ah, here, I’ll just write my number on a napkin that way you both can have it.” She bent down hastily, and Hansol pinched Byungjoo quickly before she straightened once more. She gave Hansol a lingering, slightly startled gaze then locked eyes with Byungjoo. “It was nice meeting you,” she mumbled quickly bowing once more before fleeing the coffee shop. As soon as the door shut behind her, Byungjoo shoved Hansol off him angrily.

“What the hell was that? What are you doing?”

Hansol laughed happily for a moment before he shook his head at Byungjoo. “I’m helping you, dummy. Don’t just fall right into her arms. You have to make her jealous first, you have to make her really _want_ it before you commit. If she thinks you’re in a relationship, if she thinks you’re something she can’t have, that’ll make her want you that much more. It’s science, idiot. Plus, I’m using you as a fake boyfriend right now anyways.”

Byungjoo frowned and glanced up at Hansol, who was picking at one of his nails. “What? With who?”

Hansol smiled mischievously, keeping his eyes fixed on his nails. “His name’s Jaehwa and he’s got the best body I’ve ever seen.”

Byungjoo pouted for a moment. “I thought you said _my_ body was the best body you’d ever seen.”

Hansol let out a loud laugh. “Byungjoo! I can’t date you, now can I? Good God, boy, where has your mind gone?”

“So then why are you fake dating me?”

“Because it’s exactly the push Jaehwa needs to get in bed with me. He’s the type of man who gets a kick off being a home wrecker. So I gave him a fake home to wreck.” Hansol shrugged and glanced up finally, shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets. “I want that boy in my pants.”

Byungjoo choked slightly and felt his face grow hot. Hansol laughed again and wrapped his arm around Byungjoo’s neck, pulling him closer for a moment before releasing him again. He was still blushing after Hansol let go.

“Okay, but since you told Myeong we’re dating we actually have to act like it now. So that means more touching, and you know, kissing maybe.”

Hansol’s eyebrows rose swiftly, his expression turning from amused to happily confused. “Byungjoo, I wasn’t anticipating you to be so willing. I’m game. I’d kiss you any day of the week for a good cause.”

Byungjoo punched Hansol in the stomach, pulling a muffled groan from the shorter boy. “Just, if we do this, promise not to fall for me, okay?”

Hansol snorted and grinned. “You won’t have to worry about that, Byungjoo. I won’t make the same mistake twice. Really though, _you_ should be concerned about not falling for _me_.”

Byungjoo rolled his eyes, running his hands through his thick hair. Hansol laughed again, turning when the cashier called his name. Byungjoo leaned against the wall as he waited for Hansol to return with him steaming coffee, the sleeves of his sweatshirt covering his fingers as they gripped the Styrofoam cup in his hands. He was struggling with removing the lid, his face squishing in concentration. Once he finally had the lid off, he blew on his coffee in satisfaction, moving his eyes up to Byungjoo.

“What are you looking at, huh?”

Byungjoo shook his head. “You’re so dramatic with the damn coffee, Hansol. It’s _supposed_ to be hot.”

Hansol grinned and took a tentative sip, smacking his lips loudly. “How did Myeong approach you, anyway? I heard her say ‘regulars’ but that’s about it.”

Byungjoo pushed the door open and held it for Hansol, frowning at the sidewalk as he spoke. “She just came over and asked for my number is all. She just said it was a good idea, because we’re both regulars at the coffee shop.”

Hansol interrupted Byungjoo’s story to laugh loudly, the tenor sharp and high and contagious. Byungjoo found himself smiling despite the fact that it was against Myeong.

“Did she really? No, Byungjoo! How could you like someone so dull! Someone who is so awful at words that she can’t even think of a good reason to get your number?” Hansol tssked and smiled slyly at Byungjoo, who was glaring at him.

“You used to be the same way, Hansol, so don’t even try. You grew out of it, so there’s no reason she can’t either. Plus, I’m no better than she is. It’s the perfect match.”

“Opposites attract. Without that, we wouldn’t have batteries to power things. Like coffee machines to make mediocre coffee that we continue to waste our money on.”

“Idiot, the coffee machines are plugged into an outlet. Plus, what about you and Jaehwa? You can’t tell me you’re opposites.”

“No, but we’re not exactly alike either. Besides, Jaehwa is merely a bedroom experiment. I want to see if he’s as good as he looks. It’s helping me pass time, anyways.”

Byungjoo sighed and pushed Hansol lightly, a grin on his face. “What ever happened to the innocent little Hansol I used to know?”

Hansol smiled grimly, raising his eyebrows. “You broke his heart.”

_

After coffee, Hansol went off to the mall to clock in at his work. Byungjoo couldn’t remember what store he worked at, only that it sold a lot of destroyed clothes for a lot of money. Byungjoo considered turning around and following Hansol to his store for something to do, but decided against it. Instead he found himself wandering aimlessly, kicking at rocks and empty bottles that littered the street. Hansol’s words kept bouncing around in his head, painful and sharp. He knew Hansol hadn’t said cuttingly, he hadn’t even said it in anger. He was just sad. And Hansol had a remarkable ability to amp the drama up in any given situation. Still, though, Byungjoo couldn’t shake the words.

It happened a year ago, when Byungjoo and Hansol had been at a club, full of booze and empty of rational thought. Byungjoo had, in all honesty, been flirting with Hansol all night. Dragging his hands across his hard chest, sliding his thigh between Hansol’s legs as they danced, taking hold of his hip and refusing to let go. He had watched the transition in Hansol’s eyes as the night went on, the way they went from light, amused, slightly confused to dark and aroused. It had excited him, he remembered, watching the fumbling boy blush in the flashing lights, watching the way his lip got caught between his teeth every time Byungjoo ran his hand over the arch of his back.

Eventually, when they were leaving the club, Byungjoo drunkenly slung over Hansol’s shoulder, Hansol had stopped him in the parking lot. The memory was foggy at best, but he remembered Hansol bending down, his soft lips opened just slightly, his nervous fingers curled in the fabric of Byungjoo’s shirt.

It was then that Byungjoo suddenly became very, very sober. The game in the club had stopped. They now were out in the humid night air, standing less than a foot away from each other, and Hansol was trying to kiss him. He stumbled back, his hand out, making contact with Hansol’s chest harder than he had intended. Hansol’s eyes blinked open, and Byungjoo had watched, his stomach in tight, acidic knots as Hansol’s face moved from confusion to embarrassment, his eyes growing wide, face paling.

“I, ah, I thought, um,” He tried, his voice hoarse, cracking on every other syllable. Byungjoo could see his hands, now no longer safely buried in his shirt, shaking against his thighs before he bunched his own shirt in his hands.

Byungjoo remembered watching Hansol turn quickly, his shoulders stiff, his posture unsure, and make his way down the rest of the strip. He stopped at the bus stop, illuminated by one single street light, orange and flickering. Byungjoo opened his mouth to protest, to tell him to come back because he needed to _say_ something, he needed to tell him it was alright, it was just the booze, they both probably wouldn’t remember this in the morning. But then he realized that Hansol hadn’t had one drink the entire night. He had despised drinking.

Hansol hadn’t talked to him for a week after that, closing himself off entirely, and it took Byungjoo a long time to figure out why. He hadn’t just liked him that night at the club. He had liked him longer. After that, there was a noticeable change in Hansol. He still had his clumsy moments, in which he didn’t know what to do or what to say, but he became more outgoing. He spoke his mind much more, went out more, dated more. It was like he was making up for all the time he hadn’t done those things. The change wasn’t terrible, it wasn’t as if Byungjoo had never seen those sides of Hansol, they just transformed from sides of him to _him_.

Shaking himself of the memories, Byungjoo made his way home and watched Star Wars until he fell asleep on the couch.

-

Hands slid down his back, warm and firm, coming to a rest at his hips. Byungjoo felt his breath quicken, unconsciously leaning into the touch. Soft, full lips whispered lowly against his neck, and Byungjoo tilted his head to the side with a shiver, his mouth falling open slightly. They kissed his neck tenderly once, twice, and then Byungjoo lost count, closing his eyes with a soft moan. He felt the person behind him shift, felt him climb over his couch and fall gracefully onto his lap so his hipbones were framed by each one of the dark haired boy’s muscular thighs.

Hansol stared down at him, his lips parted, hair rumpled and falling slightly into his flushed face. Byungjoo’s breath caught in his throat, but before he could do anything Hansol was leaning down and it was the club all over again except it _wasn’t_ and Byungjoo closed his eyes, and he could _feel_ Hansol, how close he was, the tickle of his breath against his tingling lips, and he had never craved something so much. He leaned forward, barely breathing and a loud _smack_ jerked his eyes open and he fell onto the floor, cursing.

Hansol let himself in, going on about his coworker who had done something or other the day before, his tone nothing but annoyed, until he made it further into Byungjoo’s apartment and saw him struggling up from the floor, hot in the face and scowling.

Hansol broke his story to laugh, his eyes disappearing as his smile overtook his face. Byungjoo reached for the nearest pillow and flung it at the laughing boy, anger and confusion pulsing hotly behind his eyes. That’s when he noticed another area of his body that was hot and pulsing, at the same exact moment Hansol did.

“Oh! Byungjoo! You were having dreams about Myeong now, hm?” Hansol jumped over the edge of the couch and landed on the cushions, bending his legs and resting his chin on his knees. He smiled prettily at Byungjoo. “Do tell. Was there kissing? Obviously some touching, but any build up? Did you take her out to eat first? Buy her lukewarm coffee? Text her?” Hansol laughed at his own joke while Byungjoo scrambled to find another, harder pillow to throw at him.

Hansol dodged it with a pouty face. “Hey, now, maybe you should be using those pillows to cover yourself up, instead of throwing them at me cover yourself up. Have some dignity,” Hansol tossed the last throw pillow from the couch to Byungjoo, who grabbed it from the floor angrily.

“What are you doing here anyway?” Byungjoo growled, rubbing his eyes in an attempt to avoid eye contact with Hansol. He was afraid that if he looked at him the dream would surface full force, and that was not something he wanted to think about now or ever.

“It’s nine in the morning, and I haven’t talked to you since noon yesterday. I figured I’d stop over to see if you were dead or not. Oh yeah, and also to set up our first date.”

Byungjoo almost bit his tongue in surprise before he remembered they were fake dating. He frowned over at Hansol, who was staring at him earnestly, his wide eyes content, his full lips quirked just the slightest.

“Jaehwa is going to be at this mini golf course tonight with his friends, and he invited me to come. However, because I am a dedicated boyfriend, I said I couldn’t go unless you came. Byungjoo, you will be happy to hear that Jaehwa was _ecstatic_ to have you come along.” Hansol laughed and stood up from the couch, his skinny jeans hugging his thighs. “I expect you to be ready by at least four so we can go out to eat. Dress nice, please.” And with another giddy laugh and a wink, Hansol slipped out of Byungjoo’s door.


	2. J & B

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello

-

Byungjoo slouched into his couch, trying to finish the last of the Star Wars movies before Hansol came and pounded down his door. After he had left, Byungjoo had hoisted himself off the floor, went into the shower, jacked off, and then made himself cereal. The dream he had wasn’t the first of its kind, he’d had dreams like that with Hansol in them before. Byungjoo was used to them by now, chalking it up to his lack of sexual activity and the fact that Hansol was attractive. He also ignored the fact that Myeong still hadn’t been a star in any of his dreams yet. He sat on his counter, furiously tapping at his phone, trying in vain to kill all the zombies. He spooned more cereal into his mouth, frowning as Hansol sent him a message. He quickly flicked it away and continued to tap, the sound of his short nail against his screen loud in his otherwise silent apartment. Hansol was not to be ignored, however, and Byungjoo finally growled and exited the game to check his messages.

**Hansol:** _Hey_

**Hansol:** _hey_

**Hansol:** _HeY_

**Hansol:** _We have to sned texts to each other im going to screensht something to send to jaehwa and i need you to send something cute while I do it so he sees it_

**Hansol:** _Is that doable for you_

**Hansol:** _I can always give yu an outline like_

**Hansol:** _‘hey ur asshole felt good last night ;)’_

Byungjoo coughed on the milk he just swallowed, pounding a fist to his chest for minute. He could _hear_ Hansol’s laugh.

**Hansol:** _no but seriously b pleas can u stop palyin that stupid zombie game and just do it like at least 5 so i haave time to screenshot_

**Hansol:** _please_ _:)_

Byungjoo sighed and sent him back a couple texts, crunching absently on the cereal in his mouth.

**Byungjoo:** _goodmorning honey bunches_

Almost immediately he received an angry response.

**Hansol:** _god damn it b you fucki ng idiot do i have totext myslf_

Byungjoo snickered to himself and sent a little winky face, then set his phone down, satisfied that he had done enough. He cleaned up his cereal and stayed away from his phone for the next few hours, slamming down one more Star Wars movie in the process. He fell asleep a couple of times in between movies, restarted them over again, then finally decided that he should probably get into something more than his white boxers.

He scrubbed his face as he lumbered into his room, sniffing and then frowning at his closet. He had a lot of clothes, probably too many, though not nearly close to the amount Hansol had. However, all his clothes were too _nice_. They were clothes you wore out to important things, things you cared about, like coffee and parks and stupid friends. Byungjoo couldn’t care _less_ about this mini golf date tonight, and he wanted his outfit to portray exactly that.

He sifted around in his pajama drawer until he found a red t-shirt with a yellow wording on it, a cool enough looking shirt, and slid that quickly on. He grabbed the nearest jeans, rumpled and stained on the pocket from where he had dropped his hot dog on it. He slid on one grey sock and one white sock, then his white shoes. He looked at himself in the mirror and nodded, pleased with how he looked. Like he had just rolled out of bed.

He knew, in the back of his head, that by taking all that time to show he _didn’t_ care made it apparent that he did care, even a little bit, but he was the only one who had to know that. He wandered back into his living room and sat back down on his couch again, mildly concerned that the print of his ass was starting to form in his couch cushion.

Then, Hansol burst into his house, not even talking, already loud and rustling in his clothes and coat and movements. Byungjoo turned to look and saw his happiness spilling off him in waves, grinning every few seconds like his body was mass producing smiles and he couldn’t possibly contain them all. He was wearing one of his red coats over his favorite grey hoodie, the hood pulled over his head, and his favorite pair of pants, black skinny jeans that had zippers running up and down his thighs. Byungjoo caught the glint of a single necklace almost hidden under his clothes. He had even applied light eyeliner, but smudged it enough that it was barely visible.

His smile grew wider when he saw what Byungjoo was wearing, and when he laughed he threw his head back. “Byungjoo, my little trashcan of a boyfriend. Have you been sitting in that all day?” Hansol came forward, pinching the fabric of Byungjoo’s shirt between his pointer finger and thumb, as if the cotton was toxic.

“Yeah, I mean. Kind of. Since I showered,” Byungjoo lied with a shrug of his shoulders, allowing Hansol to turn him around for a full inspection.

He heard an offended gasp. “These pants have a _stain_ on them!”

“I spilled my hot dog on them,”

Hansol reappeared in front of Byungjoo’s face, scowling. He hit him on the shoulder, none too gently. “I told you to dress _nice_. Jaehwa won’t be jealous if he thinks I’m dating a greaseball.”

Byungjoo rolled his eyes. “If you give me enough affection he will be. It doesn’t matter what I look like. You know, maybe it’ll make him _more_ jealous. That you’re crazy about this loser guy who can’t dress himself when he’s right there, all gleaming and great body and bad boy.”

Whoa. That came out a lot more bitter than Byungjoo had intended it. He smiled at the end to soften it, raising his eyebrows.

Hansol’s face softened. “Aw, Byungjoo. You’re not a loser guy. Plus, you _know_ you can dress yourself, and so do I. You have the best fashion taste I’ve ever seen, after my own. You just don’t care.” Hansol wrapped an arm around Byungjoo’s shoulder and nuzzled his hair. “You can pretend to be a sleezeball for tonight, just like you can pretend to be my boyfriend. It’ll be great.”

Byungjoo felt his chest warm at Hansol’s words, absurdly pleased at his offhand compliment. He shook his hair back out and turned off his lights, stepping into the hallway with Hansol, where he put his hood back over his head.

“So where are we going to eat?” Byungjoo asked, sliding his keys into his pocket.

“Psh, I have no idea. I didn’t think that far ahead. All I knew is that I would be hungry.”

Byungjoo walked silently beside Hansol for a second, staring at the ground. “We could go somewhere nice, so you can tell Jaehwa later.”

Hansol waved the suggestion aside with a shake of his head. “No need to waste money on an expensive meal when you can always lie about it. Plus, you are _so_ not dressed for anywhere above like, Olive Garden. Which is another place we’re not going.”

Byungjoo rolled his eyes, biting his lip. He didn’t know why he had thought Hansol had meant serious type date restaurants when he had said they were going out to eat. It wasn’t like Myeong or Jaehwa were going to be present.

Hansol was still talking, though Byungjoo hadn’t really been listening.

“You know, probably not even Olive Garden. I mean maybe. You’re at a Maybe Olive Garden level. At most, you’re a solid diner level though. Like local diner. We can’t leave the tristate area to go to this diner, because that’d be too much work for your outfit.”

Byungjoo reached out and shoved Hansol. “Shut up, my outfit has never drawn this much attention from you before.”

“That’s because you always dress nice! I never have to worry about the level of fancy of anywhere we go because we already both match it. You’ve thrown a curve ball at me with that god damn stain, B.”

“Then let’s just go to the diner down the road. They’ve got really good soup there. Plus, the lady is really nice. She always gives me extra mints.” Byungjoo wiggled his eyebrows at Hansol, and he giggled, just as Byungjoo had anticipated.

“Alright, that sounds good. As long as we’re out of there by six.”

Byungjoo nodded and followed Hansol into the street. The walk there felt normal, both of them shoving each other a healthy amount of times, Byungjoo mocking Hansol more than once, Hansol tripping him in return.

When they made it to the diner, they were both grinning absently, and the hostess smiled at them knowingly when they asked for a table for two. She placed the menus down with a very warm smile, looking at them both before walking away.

Hansol stared after her in confusion, before understanding cleared his face. He let out a loud laugh, which was what he always seemed to be doing, and smacked the table with one hand.

“The hostess thinks we’re dating.”

Byungjoo raised his eyebrows, wiggling them again. “I guess we’re doing better than we thought.”

“Speaking  of,” Hansol began, twirling his menu around in his fingers, “have you texted Myeong yet?”

Byungjoo blinked, then slid his phone out of his pocket. “No, but only because I don’t know what to say to her. I’m not a word smith like you.”

Laughing, Hansol quickly snatched his phone from where it rested on the table, opening it with skilled fingers. Byungjoo couldn’t remember telling Hansol his password, but didn’t mind that he knew it either way. Hansol’s fingers moved quickly across his screen and he paused a moment, eyes flicking over the words, before he tapped the phone once and set it down.

Byungjoo picked it back up, eyeing Hansol suspiciously as he opened his messages.

**Byungjoo:** _hey! it’s byungjoo from the coffee shop.,. what’s up?_

Byungjoo scrunched his face up when he saw the heart Hansol had added to Myeong’s name, then placed his phone back in his pocket.

“Good enough, I guess. Probably better than what I would have said,”

Hansol grinned at him then looked down at his menu, pursing his lips. Byungjoo allowed himself to study Hansol’s face unobserved for a few moments before he quickly opened his own menu. He had no reason to open it, he already knew what soup he was getting, and so did their waitress, but he needed something else to look at.

He stared at a little star in the corner of the menu until their waitress came out, a sweet middle aged lady named Lee. She smiled happily when she saw Byungjoo, reaching down to rub his shoulder before waving at Hansol. Hansol smiled back and nodded, eyes happy and relaxed.

“I already know what Bjoo wants, what about you honey?” She flipped open her little pad, pulling the pencil from behind her ear. Hansol ordered a salad with a bowl of extra cucumbers on the side. Lee smiled as she took the menus, folding them carefully under her arm and walking away.

Hansol raised his eyebrows at Byungjoo once Lee had walked away. “Bjoo? I thought I was the only one with a nickname for you.”

Byungjoo smiled at him. “You’ve got competition with the little diner lady, darling. Besides, you never call me B anyways, unless you’re lazy and don’t want to type my full name out.”

Hansol opened his mouth to protest, then closed it, pouting. “Bjoo. It’s so cute.”

“I don’t think B is a bad nickname,” Byungjoo said quietly, fiddling with his napkin wrapped utensils.

Hansol adjusted in the booth, crossing his legs under the table so he could lean forward more. “I’ll call you B more, okay? Like in person and stuff. Plus, tonight’s the perfect night to try it out.”

Byungjoo felt a little pang in his chest, so small he decided to ignore it. So what Hansol was using tonight as the only reason to start calling him by a nickname? He hadn’t done it before anyway.

Their food came faster than expected but they ate slowly, Byungjoo blowing on his soup for about five minutes, Hansol mocking him – ‘Its soup, Byungjoo. It’s _supposed_ to be hot’ – before the check came. Hansol reached for it first, popping a cucumber into his mouth.

Byungjoo reached into his pocket to give Hansol his half of the check, but Hansol shooed his hand away and placed a twenty on the table. When Byungjoo protested, Hansol tapped his finger against the check.

“It was twelve dollars, Byungjoo. That’s nothing I can’t handle. Plus, you’re paying for your mini golf ticket that you don’t even want to go to. I got dinner.”

Byungjoo glanced away quickly to hide his momentary blush. Lee rushed out to give them mints, a handful each, and they thanked her heartily before leaving the diner.

They grabbed a taxi up to the mini golf course, which Hansol also paid for. Byungjoo hid his groan as he got out of the taxi, seeing that the place was _pirate_ themed. Hansol seemed delighted, laughing happily at the plastic pirate figure in the front, with only the feet of his bird on his shoulder, the rest of the body missing. Byungjoo wondered where it went and who took it.

Hansol stopped Byungjoo before they could enter the little shack to get their mini puts and glowing golf balls. He was very close in the evening light, his eyes bright, lips curling upwards.

“Don’t be intimidated by Jaehwa, okay? You’re with me.”

Byungjoo rolled his eyes and shoved Hansol away. “You don’t have to worry about that. All you have to worry about is me dying from boredom.”

Hansol chuckled and squeezed Byungjoo’s hand. He didn’t let go.

They walked into the shack, and Byungjoo felt his chest tighten, anxious all of a sudden to meet this Jaehwa he had heard so much about. However, when they stepped inside there was no Jaehwa to be seen. Hansol didn’t seem concerned in the slightest, buying his put and forking over his money. Byungjoo did the same, choosing the put with a red handle and white ball. Hansol chose the purple handle and yellow ball, then walked out into the first course. That, Byungjoo found, is where Jaehwa was waiting for them.

He was accompanied by two other friends, both dressed in dark colors, a faded navy sweatshirt and a black cotton tee. Jaehwa, though, was obviously dressed to impress. He had on tight, _tight_ leather pants, which Byungjoo thought would be hard to move in, but he made it seem effortless. He had a white tank top on, covered by a long sleeved see-through fish net shirt. His hair was dark and thick, cut short enough to not hang in his face but long enough to spike on its own. His jawline was sharp and his nose was straight. He had a _lip_ piercing.

Byungjoo suddenly felt like the smallest person on the planet.

Then Hansol’s hand was slipping into his and his chest grew warm and he momentarily forgot the feeling. Hansol tugged him closer, then walked over to Jaehwa and his friends, nodding politely at them, giving Jaehwa a special smile.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep you waiting. Dinner took a little longer than I thought it was going to,” Hansol explained squeezing Byungjoo’s hand. Jaehwa’s eyes finally flickered from where they had been resting possessively on Hansol over to Byungjoo, who suddenly recalled his feeling from earlier. The stain on his pocket felt like a neon sign for how aware he became of it.

Hansol leaned into Byungjoo immediately, almost as if he could feel what he was feeling. His arm wrapped around his shoulder and he smiled over at him. “Jaehwa, this is my boyfriend, Byungjoo. Byungjoo, Jaehwa.”

Jaehwa’s eyes never left his face as he held out his hand, eyes barely moving to imitate a small smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Byungjoo. I’ve heard so much,”

Byungjoo almost laughed, taken aback by the cliché phrase slipping out of this man’s mouth. Instead he smiled blandly back, fluttering his lashes. “Only good things, I hope!”

Hansol choked on a snort and buried it by coughing. Jaehwa’s eyes narrowed and he withdrew his hand. “Of course, there doesn’t seem to be a thing wrong with you.”

Byungjoo was not ready for this. He wasn’t even Hansol’s real _boyfriend_ but this douchebag was _pushing his limits_ and he hadn’t even known him for _two minutes_. Hansol kissed Byungjoo lightly on the cheek, breaking the tense silence with a small laugh.

“Well, there is _one_ bad thing,” he began turning around and dropping his golf ball onto the course, adjusting it with his put. Byungjoo looked over with a frown. “He hates mini golf,”

He bumped his hip against Byungjoo’s to make sure he knew he was joking, then hit the ball down the course. It bounced off the wall and came to a stop a decent distance away from the hole. Byungjoo laughed despite himself, reaching out to shove Hansol but instead pulling him into a hug, the back of his body flush against the front of his own. “Yeah, well at least I’m better than you.”

As the game went on, it seemed that Byungjoo was in fact, not better than Hansol. He was actually the worst out of all of them. Jaehwa wasn’t the best either, which was a relief. It was one of his friends, though Byungjoo couldn’t be bothered to remember his name. More than once they had to wait, Hansol patiently laughing, Jaehwa and his friends silently fuming, for Byungjoo to finally hit the goddamn ball into the tiny hole. The more the game went on, the more frustrated he got. And the more the game went on, the flirtier Hansol got with Jaehwa. It was subtle enough for it to pass by an onlooker, but Byungjoo could see it, Jaehwa’s friends could see it, and Jaehwa could _definitely_ see it.

Byungjoo tried to not let it bother him, and he told himself it wouldn’t have if Jaehwa wasn’t rubbing it in his face like some goddamn victory. Hansol did it in the perfect way, too. He would come over to Byungjoo, wrap his arms around his shoulders, or rest his head on his shoulder, or hold his hand, then go over to Jaehwa and do something much more subtle. An accidental touch across his thigh, bumping shoulders with a sly smile, even bending down to place his golf ball on the ground, much to Byungjoo’s dismay.

As the game went on, the evening dipped lower, the earth swallowing the last rays of the sun with a great sigh. The lights flicked on at the second to last course, right as Byungjoo hit his ball. The sudden burst of brightness blinded him, and he overshot horribly. He watched his white ball sail over the course and plop happily into the now illuminated lake that he had missed before. Hansol broke into laughter behind him, and Byungjoo reached behind himself to push the laughing boy. He felt his pocket buzz loudly once, frowning and going to reach for it when he noticed Jaehwa move into sight. His hand fell from his pocket and he narrowed his eyes.

Jaehwa was smiling slightly, and though it didn’t seem to be a cruel smile, Byungjoo still wanted to smack it right off his face. He took a step back from his spot, allowing Hansol to go next, standing just to the side of him. Jaehwa went after Hansol, and this time it was him who brushed against Hansol, his hand trailing over Hansol’s upper thigh. Byungjoo rolled his eyes at Jaehwa’s lack of class.

Then he stopped himself. What did he care that Jaehwa lacked class? This was exactly what Hansol wanted. Jaehwa in his pants.

After he hit the ball, he went and stood right behind Hansol, and Byungjoo could tell from the way Hansol’s eyes widened just the slightest that Jaehwa was touching him. The thought filled him with subdued rage for some reason, but he stayed put, biting his lip and watching Jaehwa’s friend land a hole in one.

They finally made their way over to the last hole, and Byungjoo silently let out a sigh of relief. He had a hard time believing he had made it this far without losing his mind. He had no ball to play at this hole, so Hansol went first, bending over his put, positioning his legs, getting way too into the whole deal. Byungjoo fought the smile that he knew would come anyway, and watched in amusement as Hansol swung his put as hard as he could so the ball went flying. Jaehwa and his friends laughed, but Byungjoo kept his laughter to himself. He didn’t want to share that with them.

Jaehwa walked up behind Hansol and slid his hand from his thigh up his back, his hand catching on the ruffled part of Hansol’s hoodie so his fingers dragged across the bare skin of Hansol’s back. Byungjoo watched Hansol’s breath hitch and felt his hands tighten around his put.

“Good job, Hansol,” Jaehwa said quietly, making dark eye contact with the smaller boy.

“Thank you, Jae,” Hansol said lightly back, smirking slightly.

For some reason, that was what snapped Byungjoo. He called Jaehwa _Jae_ , but couldn’t remember to call him _B_. He found himself walking forward without thinking, found himself taking Hansol by the shoulders and turning him towards him. Found himself ignoring Hansol’s startled gasp and found himself pressing his lips against Hansol’s own.

Time seemed to stop for one single second, and in that second Byungjoo memorized the feel of Hansol’s lips. They were soft and warm, parted just slightly, his breath jagged and surprised. Then Byungjoo pressed slightly into Hansol’s lips, praying he would reciprocate. He did, hesitantly at first, a soft pressure. Then his hands were at the back of Byungjoo’s neck and he was pulling him closer, biting his lower lip slightly. Byungjoo gasped.

Hansol pulled back, eyes dark and wide, cheeks flushed. Byungjoo’s heart was racing in his chest, pounding so hard against his rib cage he was sure it was bound to break free. He blinked for one moment, then allowed reality to hit his shoulders and he turned to Jaehwa. His eyes were dark, angry, and he was watching Byungjoo with an expression of contempt. Byungjoo would much rather look at his expression over Hansol’s confused, lingering one though. He could feel his eyes on his back for only seconds more before Hansol made a joke that Byungjoo barely heard that made Jaehwa’s friends laugh. They finished the last hole quickly, considering Byungjoo was no longer a player, and filed into the parking lot.

“You guys have a ride, right?” Jaehwa asked, eyes flicking between the two of them, waiting.

“Yeah, we’ve got a ride,” Byungjoo said quickly before Hansol could respond.

Jaehwa nodded, reaching his hand out. “It was nice to meet you, Byungjoo. You’re very lucky.”

Byungjoo shook his hand back, smiling tightly, extremely ready to be done for the night. “I know I am. It was nice meeting you too, bud.”

Hansol elbowed him secretly while biting his lip to hide a smile. That alone made the last hour of Hansol fawning over Jaehwa slip away. Byungjoo smiled again and let go of his hand.

Jaehwa nodded at Hansol, eyes leaving heavy implications, then left. Byungjoo called a taxi, Hansol yelling into the phone the entire time, laughing when Byungjoo pushed him away.

The taxi dropped Hansol off first, who declared the night a success with a happy little dance. He then closed the door and walked into his own apartment, hoodie falling off his head as he went. Byungjoo let his head fall back against the headrest of the car, resting his eyes. When they finally arrived back at his house, he paid the taxi driver and slid out of the car. He walked into his apartment and threw off his clothes immediately, climbing into bed. It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that he allowed himself to think of the way Hansol’s lips had felt against his.  


	3. its one in the morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bjoo gets green

The rain hit Byungjoo’s windows hard, startling him awake with a groan and sigh. His room was dim, the edges softened by the slate grey sky outside. His curtain was open and he blinked blearily at the rivulets of water sliding down the glass. It was a perfect day to throw himself back under his blankets and not think about the night before. So he did just that.

Once he was safely under his thick covers, he closed his eyes and listened to the distant sound of thunder. He imagined the slight chill that must be covering his apartment floors, as it always did when it rained. He imagined the people running through the downpour outside, holding up umbrellas or hefting their coats above their heads. That thought led him to Hansol, who always wore a hoodie for just that exact reason. He had a peculiar thing about not letting anyone see his hair wet. Byungjoo had only seen it wet once, when one of their friends pushed him into a pool. Hansol had been beyond embarrassed, his face red as he ran quickly to the bathroom to dry it off.

Another rumble of thunder brought him back to the present and Byungjoo sighed comfortably this time, rolling slightly around in his cool sheets. He wished someone were here with him, just to share the storm with. Someone to fill up the empty space that hulked massively beside him on the bed. Someone to curl into when the chill from his vents overwhelmed them.

His phone on the table next to him buzzed, rattling against the wood. He ignored it, enjoying the heavy feel of his eyelids. Then it buzzed again, and again, and Byungjoo flung his hand out of the covers to shove his phone off the table, where it landed on the carpet with a dull thud. The rain was too loud to allow the dull buzzing of his phone to be heard from the carpet, and he closed his eyes once more in relief.

He let his mind wander, nearly dreaming though still awake, body heavy. His thoughts strayed to Myeong, her hair falling softly out of its bun, holding a cup of coffee in her slender hands, smiling shyly at him like she had two days prior. He smiled softly, imagining how it would feel to share a bed with her beside him. She would be soft, he thought, slightly cool like the blankets he was concealed under. They would have to hold each other tightly to get the warmth required for a rainy day like this. He smiled into his pillow, almost relieved that his first thought had been Myeong instead of Hansol. After yesterday’s train of thought he had been worried that possibly that was the new normal for him.

Thunder rumbled again, louder this time, closer, and Byungjoo curled his legs up to his chest, hoping to drift off to sleep once more.

A body landed on top of his and Byungjoo yelped in surprise, twisting quickly in his covers. Hansol laid on top of him, dressed in loose sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He looked tired and sleepy, like he had just woken up and walked over to Byungjoo’s apartment.

His annoyance lessened slightly when he saw that it was Hansol who had jumped on him, but he still shoved him to the side anyway, grunting. Hansol allowed himself to be pushed, smiling slightly. He ended up beside Byungjoo, very warm and giggly, though he was still laying on top of the blankets rather than under them.

Byungjoo turned his back to Hansol, closing his eyes once more. He knew he could fall asleep with Hansol in his bed, he had done it before, but for some reason this time he found he couldn’t keep his eyes closed, the urge to turn around and talk to Hansol too strong. So finally he did, shifting in his bed so he could talk to Hansol from a comfortable distance away. In the soft light of the rainy morning, Hansol’s face looked softer and sweeter than Byungjoo had ever seen it. Realizing he didn’t have a hoodie on, Byungjoo’s eyes snapped to Hansol’s hair. It was dry.

“How is your hair dry if you had to walk through the rain?”

Hansol grinned, pleased that he hadn’t truly annoyed Byungjoo. “I wore a hoodie but I took it off when I was in your kitchen. I didn’t think you’d want a handsome wet boy in your bed this early in the morning.”

Byungjoo rolled his eyes. “How early is it anyway?”

Hansol leaned back, pulling his bare arm forward and pretending to read a watch. “Ah, it’s about Time to Wake Up. You can’t waste a perfect day like this _sleeping_.”

“That’s exactly what this day is best for, moron. What else is there to do?”

“Watch movies, play video games, cook, read books,”

“Most of those I enjoy doing by myself, and you don’t seem intent on leaving within the next couple of hours.”

Hansol grinned charmingly at Byungjoo and moved his arm under his head, resting it there. “B! You act as if you don’t want me to spend the entire day with you!”

Byungjoo was about to respond, chest suddenly warm for some reason, when he heard his phone buzz softly on the floor. Hansol raised his eyebrows, and Byungjoo frowned. If it wasn’t Hansol texting him, he didn’t know who it could be this early in the morning. He rolled over once more and flung half his body of his bed, just enough that he could reach his phone.

He hoisted himself back up onto the bed, staring at his phone in confusion.

_6:32 pm_

**< 3 Myeong <3** _: hello!! i remember you lol. it would be hard to forget._

_6:57 pm_

**< 3 Myeong <3:** _that sounds kind of creepy_

**< 3 Myeong<3**: _this is coming out all wrong oh god_

**< 3Myeong<3: ** _im probably overthinking this anyways its just a text_

_10:26 pm_

**< 3Myeong<3:** _okay well goodnight im sorry for bothering you haha_

_8:32 am_

**< 3Myeong<3: ** _hey i don’t mean to bother you but i was wondering if you and hansol wanted to come and see a movie with my friend and i today_

**< 3Myeong<3: ** _if not its okay just thought i would offer since you seem cool and all_

_8:58 am_

**< 3Myeong<3: ** _and your boyfriend too he seems nice_

Byungjoo blinked, completely having forgotten that he had sent her a text the night before. Well, that _Hansol_ had sent her a text the night before. Hansol was whining next to him so he handed his phone over, watching Hansol’s face as he read the texts.

“God, this girl texts a lot,” Hansol said, scrunching up his nose.

“So do you!” Byungjoo retorted, grabbing his phone back.

“Yes, but when _I_ do it it’s endearing. When she does it it gives me second hand embarrassment. You can tell she kept thinking about it, too.” Hansol scooted closer to Byungjoo to show him, his warm thigh pressed against Byungjoo’s own. “See the time spaces in between her texts? She kept overthinking her texts to you and going back to change them. That means she was _thinking_ of you. It’s great!”

Byungjoo’s teeth worried over his lower lip, reading the messages again. “Yeah, but did you see her texts from this morning? She wants us to go to a movie with her.”

Hansol gave Byungjoo a look. “And?”

Byungjoo threw his hands up. “Do we go?”

Hansol laughed and leaned back into the bed, fingers coming down to rest on Byungjoo’s head. “Ah, the royal ‘we’.”

“I’m serious, Hansol, she can see that I’ve read these.”

“Well of course you’re going to say yes! Why would you not go to the movies with the girl you’re planning on dating in the future?” Hansol twirled a strand of Byungjoo’s hair around his finger once before releasing it and pushing his body forward so that he was sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed, on top of Byungjoo’s shins.

“Text her back and ask her what time.”

Byungjoo did just that, placing his phone nervously on the table. Then he realized, as they sat there, Hansol looking at his nails again, the elephant in the room. Or maybe not in the room, because Hansol looked completely unbothered sitting on top of Byungjoo. The kiss. Maybe Byungjoo was the only one thinking about the kiss, about how soft Hansol’s lips had been, and how nice it felt to have his hands at the back of Byungjoo’s neck.

Of course he was the only one thinking that, because Hansol had the sense to know it was all pretend. Which, Byungjoo did, too, but not to the point where he could forget. He had only kissed Hansol to wipe the god awful smirk off Jaehwa’s face. Blinking and picking his phone back up when it buzzed, he read Myeong’s immediate response.

“She asked if six works,” Byungjoo read, looking up at Hansol. He nodded, falling over onto his side, making Byungjoo bounce slightly on his mattress. Byungjoo sent back one more quick, affirmatory text and set his phone down once more.

“What are we gonna do until then?” Byungjoo asked, watching Hansol open and close his eyes slowly, as if mesmerized by the feeling of his own eyelids.

“Make cookies,” he replied with a sly, happy grin, laughing when Byungjoo groaned and rolled under the covers. Once his face was protected though, he allowed himself a small, unguarded smile into his pillow. No one had to know.

An hour later, Byungjoo found himself perched on one of his creaking wooden stools, watching Hansol labor over a colorful ceramic bowl filled with cookie dough. He kept scooping chunks out with his index finger and sticking it in his mouth, cheek hallowing as he sucked the dough free. Byungjoo found that he had a difficult time moving his eyes away from that scene, so he left them where they were. Hansol, on the fifth scoop, glanced over at Byungjoo.

“Do you want some?” he asked sweetly, smiling genuinely at Byungjoo. He was taken aback, startled at being caught staring and then next by the offer. Hansol’s finger was waiting, hovering in the space in front of his lips, and it would be so easy to lean forward and take it into his mouth. He could almost taste the sweet melting quality of the cookie dough already. All he had to do was open his mouth and lean forward.

Hansol, growing impatient, brought his finger to Byungjoo’s lips, which were still closed. His finger was warm and the soft contact of it was enough to send peculiar shivers down Byungjoo’s legs. He opened his mouth, leaning forward, when Hansol laughed and took a surprised step back.

“You were really going to eat it off my finger?” he asked, eyes crinkled up in an absurdly pleased smile.

Byungjoo could feel how hot his face became, and he could only imagine how red it was. “Well, yeah. You had your finger on my mouth already.”

Hansol laughed again, seeming to forget he still had a hunk of cookie dough on his index finger. “I only did that because I thought it would bother you!” He grinned, wagging the cookie coated finger at Byungjoo. “Has domestic life softened you, B?”

Byungjoo grumbled and crossed his arms, swiveling on his stool so his back was facing Hansol.

He heard a soft chuckle, then the sounds of baking resumed. It hadn’t been _that_ odd, had it? Byungjoo only had really wanted the cookie dough, and Hansol had an alluring ability to make everything into a game.

Deciding that he’d had enough of sitting and watching Hansol split his efforts between putting cookie dough balls onto a pan and eating the cookie dough balls, Byungjoo stood up. He wasn’t sure where he was going to go; his apartment wasn’t that big, but he knew anywhere at this point would be better that a front row seat of Hansol making love to cookie dough. It was ridiculous, honestly.

Byungjoo scowled as he trod into his grey room, the window still echoing softly with the steady rainfall. Hansol was too alluring, too sensual, and it really was no wonder he had Byungjoo acting the way he was. Hansol could make anyone lose their mind eventually. It had just taken him longer to wear down Byungjoo. He heard Hansol call his name from the kitchen, but he paid no mind, instead he continued on into his bathroom, where he shed his sleep attire and paused only briefly to look in the mirror.

A boy with pale hair and blown pupils stared back at him. His cheeks were still slightly rosy from his encounter with Hansol, and his collarbones were very prominent in the soft, white light of his bathroom. He glanced back down once more, kicking his clothes into a pile in the corner of the room and turning on the shower, the immediate hot spray of water slightly reassuring.

There was something about showers that allowed him to close his eyes and think of absolutely nothing, more so than any other place he had found before.

Except this time, as he slid into the warm fall of water with closed eyes, Hansol’s lips were the first thing that swam to the surface of his imagination. The shape of them, the way they formed his charming smile so perfectly, or the way they framed each of his words like every syllable was a piece of artwork in itself.

Blinking suddenly, Byungjoo took in a harsh gulp of air. He could not be having these thoughts. Hansol was his friend. His _friend_. Byungjoo had denied him a mere year before, so where was that reluctance now?  Swallowing hard, Byungjoo went about his shower mechanically, the motions barely registering. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Hansol, both good and bad. By the time he shut the water off, leaving him standing dripping onto his floor, a harrowing fear had taken a strong root in his head.

The possibility that he liked Hansol had finally surfaced, and it lingered, quietly but dauntingly, in the back of his head. Yanking a towel roughly off the wooden hook, Byungjoo threw it over his head and scrubbed vigorously at his hair, thinking perhaps he could shake all of the absurd thoughts from his head if he tried hard enough.

He tossed the towel back onto the hook when he was done, making his way into his room, opening his closet. He brought out a pair of black skinny jeans and a black shirt, pulled those on, then slung a tan jacket over his shoulders and made his way back out into his living room. Hansol was sitting dejectedly on his stool, slumped and pouty, staring down at his phone. Byungjoo felt a pinch of guilt, but quickly dismissed it. He would have to act coolly towards Hansol until his emotions got themselves in check. Until then, he wasn’t sure he could handle being cozy with him and remain sane.

Hansol looked up at his entry, his eyes lightening, his saddened mood falling from his shoulders as if it were a light blanket.

“So you left me to go freshen up I see,” Hansol winked, sliding closer and ruffling Byungjoo’s hair. Byungjoo stepped to the side, trying to avoid Hansol’s touch but failing. Hansol seemed to not have noticed, and stood up from his chair.

“Either way, the cookies are in the oven and now we have nothing to do for another hour or so.”

Byungjoo chewed on his lips, trying hard not to look at Hansol. He sat down on his couch, throwing his legs up so he took up the whole space, posture anything but inviting. Hansol hardly seemed to pick up on anything, it seemed, and he threw his body over the couch and landed hard on Byungjoo’s legs, who made a sound of pain and instinctively sat up.

His head knocked into Hansol’s, who was trying to find the perfect way to balance on human legs and, failing, fell down onto Byungjoo more fully than he had before. His head landed in the crook of Byungjoo’s neck and his knee was wedged between both of his thighs, hands braced desperately on both of Byungjoo’s biceps.

Byungjoo tried in vain to pull back, however, seeing as he was on the couch, he had very little room to move. Hansol was laughing, soft, happy laughter, and it was happening right into Byungjoo’s neck. The warm tickle of his breath made Byungjoo want to close his eyes and sigh. Instead, he grabbed Hansol’s hands and hefted him up, so that his face was no longer buried in Byungjoo’s neck. That still left him sitting on top of him, but he had to choose the lesser of the two evils.

Hansol was grinning, pleased with himself, fingers gently squeezing Byungjoo’s hand, and Byungjoo groaned.

He couldn’t be cold with Hansol.

Not like this, not for no reason. He was too loving and touching and affectionate. Too _Hansol_.

“My bad, B. I didn’t see you there.”

“Well, I am pretty easy to miss.”

“No kidding. You’re like a bean pole.”

“I am _not_ like a bean pole. I have muscle.”

“Barely,”

“More than a _bean pole_ though, for Christ’s sake.”

Hansol shrugged, hiding his smile by turning away briefly. When he was once more facing Byungjoo, he was brandishing his phone.

“Hey, how about while we wait, you help me think of cute things to text Jaehwa.”

The warm feeling in Byungjoo’s chest immediately frosted over, and his fingers longed to clench.

Hansol was still looking down at his phone, talking to himself. “I mean, I’m not sure how much help you’ll be exactly, but at the very least you could learn something.”

Byungjoo swallowed the knot that had suddenly formed in his throat and raised his eyebrows with effort. “Learn something?”

Hansol glanced up, meeting Byungjoo’s eyes. “You know, to try on Myeong. Woo her. That poor girl is almost as bland as black coffee.”

Byungjoo laughed slightly, despite himself. “Stop comparing her to coffee, she isn’t just ‘the coffee shop girl’ anymore. Besides, coffee is bitter, not bland. Tofu is a better word to describe it.”

Hansol glanced up quickly, something curling his eyes up just slightly. “So you agree then?”

Byungjoo blinked heavily, then frowned. “No I don’t I was just…” he stopped at Hansol’s cackle. “I do _not_ agree! I was just correcting you because you made a stupid reference. Myeong is not like tofu.”

Hansol was still grinning, though he had stopped laughing. “Alright, if she’s not like tofu, then what is she like?”

Byungjoo opened his mouth to respond, then closed it again, hesitating. Hansol was waiting, his phone momentarily forgotten in his hands.

“I can’t say that yet,” Byungjoo finally responded lamely.

Hansol rolled his eyes, returning to his phone.

“Hey, only because I barely know her!”

Hansol looked up again. “Okay, fair enough.” He sat for a moment longer, seeming to be coming to a conclusion in his mind. “Then what does she _look_ like?”

Byungjoo frowned at him, not understanding. “A girl?”

“No, Byungjoo. I know she looks like a girl. I know. I’m saying, if you had to compare her to something, if you had to be _romantic_ about it, what would you compare her to? Her looks are enough for you to take a shot in the dark about her personality, so you should be able to at least come up with something for this.”

Byungjoo stared at Hansol, who gazed back expectantly. He raked his mind for something he could compare her to. She had dark hair, and nice skin. Her fingers were long. She was well-kept. He swallowed, then said, “She looks like a flower,”

Hansol _roared_. His head fell back and his body swiftly followed, arm falling from the couch with a thud. His laughter was shaking Byungjoo’s legs, and as he watched Hansol laugh he had a strong urge to kick him onto the floor.

“A flower?” Hansol asked incredulously, pulling himself back up finally. “A flower? That’s it? All you could come up with?”

Byungjoo blushed and this time _did_ push Hansol from the couch. “Shut up. Flowers are pretty, she’s pretty.”

Hansol laughed again, and Byungjoo was very glad that Hansol couldn’t read his mind. Because just then, it occurred to him that the reason his responses for Myeong were so poor was because instead of thinking of her first, he thought of Hansol.

____

A couple hours later, Hansol and Byungjoo stood outside the theater, Hansol having already bought his popcorn, Byungjoo holding both their tickets. The movie started in ten minutes, and though Byungjoo had wanted to go into the theater and save seats, Hansol had insisted they wait outside. They had managed to kill the rest of the time by eating the cookies Hansol had made, watching the rain in silence, and talking for prolonged periods of time about uselessness that didn’t matter but was enjoyable nonetheless.

Byungjoo glanced down at his tickets, and when he looked up again he saw Myeong and her friend walking towards them, waving. Byungjoo smiled back, assessing her friend quickly. She had bottle red hair and an astounding talent with makeup. He knew Hansol would like her immediately. Myeong was dressed in leggings and ballet flats, a white sweatshirt thrown over her torso.

As they got closer, Myeong waved a second time, greeting them with a small smile. Hansol graciously took his head out his popcorn long enough to say hello, but stopped when he saw Myeong’s friend. Byungjoo watched the way his eyes crinkled slightly at the corners, the way they always did when he was pleased with something.

He switched hands holding his popcorn and he offered her his clean hand. “Hello, I’m Hansol.”

The girl grinned charmingly and accepted his hand with a firm shake. “I’m Suzuki, it’s nice to meet you.”

Hansol nodded, nodded once more to Myeong, then marched with Suzuki into the theater. Byungjoo caught the words, “…love your makeup,” before they were too far away to hear any more.

He turned his attention to Myeong then, who smiled at him shyly. He suddenly was unsure of what to say or do, so he smiled back, and they both lingered outside the theater doors for a bit before he coughed.

“D’you want some popcorn?”

Myeong, for some reason, went red in the face at this and shook her head vehemently. “Oh, no, I wouldn’t want to make you pay twice.”

Byungjoo was about to object that, no, he hadn’t paid twice, when he realized that she was referring to him and Hansol. He had forgotten briefly that they were still faking this whole thing.

Byungjoo smiled again, kicking his foot against the floor once. “If only Hansol had that mindset.”

Myeong laughed softly, then followed Byungjoo into the theater. It was dark already, and Hansol had to stand up and wave his hand so that Byungjoo could find them. Once Byungjoo was sitting down, Hansol on his right, Myeong on his left, Hansol resumed his conversation with Suzuki. Byungjoo found that instead of trying to talk to Myeong, he contented himself with listening to Hansol and Suzuki talk beside him.

“I mean, I used to only use pink shades because that’s my favorite color, but then I realized it didn’t work with my hair as much, so I had to broaden my horizons.”

Hansol chuckled, then followed up with, “You sound fairly stubborn,”

Suzuki laughed now too. “I mean, not really. Kind of, but not really.”

Hansol was about to say something when the screen in front of them illuminated suddenly, and he stopped. As the ads were playing, Hansol leaned over and whispered quietly, as to not disturb anyone, “What is this movie even about?”

Byungjoo smiled softly, prepared to make fun of Hansol, before he realized that he didn’t even know. He lifted his shoulders in a helpless shrug, and Hansol grinned before shifting his weigh to ask Suzuki the same question.

Byungjoo fought the pout working its way onto his face and instead turned and faced the screen in front of him, tempted to grab Myeong’s hand just to spite Hansol. He didn’t, though, only because he knew Hansol wouldn’t care in the slightest. Slumping grumpily down in his chair, Byungjoo watched the movie through heavy eyes, trying his best to throw himself into the action unfolding before him. It was a rather difficult task when all he could hear were Hansol and Suzuki’s quiet, barely there whispers back and forth.

He could feel Myeong looking at him every so often, could feel the worry on her face without even looking at her, and for some reason that angered him. She could _tell_ there was something off about Hansol and Byungjoo, which there was. They were not a _real_ couple, which Byungjoo _knew,_ but the fact that Myeong could almost pick up on that bothered him to no end. Which was absurd, because the fake relationship meant nothing anyways.

He focused once more on the screen, before he felt Hansol shift closer to him. “B, not to tell you what to do or anything, but movies aren’t for watching. Talk to Myeong, for God’s sake. That’s what you’re here to _do_.”

Byungjoo glanced at Hansol, who was still hovering close to his face, eyes expectant.

“Yeah, well thanks for taking the time to tell me that.” Byungjoo snapped, eyes furiously returning to the flashing picture in front of him. He didn’t know _why_ he was so mad, only that he _was_.

Hansol blinked, confusion melting over his features slowly, his shapely lips turning down. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” Byungjoo grit out, eyes steadily remaining forward, “that you’re so busy talking with Suzuki that I’m surprised you remembered me.”

Hansol blinked, and Byungjoo saw brief hurt flash in his eyes before he looked down quickly. He was searching for words, Byungjoo could tell, and when he looked up again, it was obvious he hadn’t found any. Byungjoo felt a deep, hard flash of guilt quicken in his stomach. Hansol hadn’t been at a loss for words since last year.

He slid slowly back into place in his chair, no longer talking to Suzuki, suddenly very interested in what was happening on screen.

Myeong finally leaned closer to Byungjoo, glancing over at Hansol with worried eyes. “Is everything okay? Do you guys need to go?”

Byungjoo gave her a small smile. “I’m not sure. I’m kind of tense right now, no worries though,”

Myeong nodded and leaned slowly back into her chair, and Hansol chose that exact moment to kick his popcorn bowl and spill it down the aisle, making both Myeong and Suzuki jump. He was down on the floor in an instant, and Byungjoo followed him.

Once they were down there, it felt like they were alone, despite the fact that they were very obviously not alone. Hansol was scooping the popcorn up with cupped hands, and Byungjoo picked up individual pieces, biting his lip as the pile in his palm grew bigger. Hansol’s hand brushed his on accident as he was going for more popcorn, and he looked up, for some reason thinking that Hansol would be looking up at him too.

Instead, Hansol glanced at him quickly, then looked back down and finished sweeping the popcorn into his hands. Depositing it into the bowl, he leaned back down, this time looking at Byungjoo.

He hadn’t seen Hansol look quite this serious in a long time, and it was slightly startling for one second. He glanced down at his lips, once, briefly, then back up at his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, and in an instant Hansol’s eyes softened. The sight filled Byungjoo with relief, warm and delicate.

“It’s okay,” Hansol replied back, then he tapped Byungjoo’s cheek once with his finger and returned to his seat. Byungjoo lingered for a moment longer on the floor, then dropped the few pieces of popcorn he had into the bowl and returned with Hansol.

The rest of the movie passed by quickly after that, Hansol nudging Byungjoo delicately every so often, though he still shared a few words with Suzuki now and then.

By the time the movie had come to an end, Byungjoo was calm once more, Hansol was smiley, and Myeong and Suzuki were otherwise oblivious. Though, as Byungjoo watched Hansol walk in front of him and out of the theater, he thought Hansol had picked up on much more tonight than what was good for either of them.


	4. Stars

The next week passed uneventfully; Byungjoo went to his low paying job every day, Hansol went to his. Byungjoo continued to text Myeong, adapting slowly to her method of texting, Hansol continued to text Jaehwa. A couple times, just as Byungjoo had finally settled down into bed, he had received a text from Hansol, screenshots of the beginning of _very_ intimate conversations he was about to share with Jaehwa. He always paired the screenshots with exclamation points and a cucumber emoji, and occasionally he would throw in the turtle emoji, for a reason unknown to Byungjoo.

 Those nights did not allow Byungjoo peaceful sleep.

He would place his phone back on his dark wooden table, facedown, and turn his back with a sick, acidic feeling sloshing around his insides. He would close his eyes and only be able to conjure the image of Hansol smiling, his warm eyes crinkling up, directed at _Jaehwa._ At Jaehwa, and not at him. He would turn the messages over in his head, like a rough rock worn smooth. He could see Hansol’s soft lips, he could _feel_ them.

God, Hansol’s lips never left him once the light was gone. As soon as he flicked the lamp beside his bed off, Hansol rose unbidden in his mind. He wasn’t _allowed_ , Byungjoo didn’t _want_ him there, but his friend came anyways, bright and unexpected and beautiful.

Other nights, Byungjoo would text Myeong until his eyes were too heavy to allow it any further. On those nights, he went to bed, content and comfortable, if not completely satisfied. Myeong made him happy, she was witty and soft and sweet. She was _interested_. Byungjoo told himself many lies about Myeong, but the biggest lie went unsaid.

His favorite nights, though, were the ones where Myeong went to bed early and Hansol texted him like he used to. Jaehwa free. Those nights, Byungjoo could convince himself he wasn’t pretending to date his best friend, pretend that the façade wasn’t destroying his sanity, and that all of Hansol’s affection and attention was for Byungjoo and Byungjoo only. Those nights were beautiful and pure and allowed Byungjoo to slip slowly and happily into darkness, their conversation spinning in pleasant circles until he fell asleep. And once he was asleep, he always saw Hansol. Sometimes he was dressed, most times he was not. Every time he took Byungjoo’s breath away. Every time Byungjoo felt his chest tug with an emotion so strong it seemed to be _pouring_ from him, though Hansol sat by, gorgeous and giggling, oblivious, even in his unconsciousness.

The days, though, they kept him busy. Myeong and him had struck up what Hansol called a ‘friendship’, his fingers heavily quoting the word every time he used it. Byungjoo wanted to smack him every time he did. He never pointed out the fact that what Hansol had with Jaehwa was the same thing though. He didn’t want Jaehwa to fall into the friend category of Hansol’s mind, even under false pretenses.

The next Tuesday, as Byungjoo sat in his empty living room, staring out his window and down into the dark streets below, he made the last minute decision to trek over to Hansol’s house. He hadn’t seen him since Sunday, and though he had heard from him (an annoying amount of the topic of discussion being Jaehwa) he found himself craving the sight of him. He wanted to watch his hands flutter in front of his figure as he described something, even Jaehwa. He wanted to take the soft fabric of Hansol’s clothes and imagine with his fingers how it must feel to be embraced by those worn outfits all the time.

The walk over to Hansol’s apartment was quiet, the noise of the street blocked out by the headphones in Byungjoo’s ears. His hands never left his baggy pockets, and he had brought two bags of microwavable popcorn and _The Dark Knight_ , Hansol’s current favorite movie that he still did not own.

His music was soft and sweet, piano and violin and hushed whispers of instruments his amateur ears couldn’t decipher enough to identify.

The walk to Hansol’s wasn’t long, but almost always Byungjoo  spotted at least one interesting character he could describe to Hansol, eagerly waiting for the dark haired boy to digest the information and tell him whether he recognized them or not. It had become a game, and so as Byungjoo walked he searched.

Often times he was challenged to find unique qualities to inform Hansol of, because while Hansol lived in a thrashing, wild, pulsing neighborhood, it was almost always dead during the day. Everyone was asleep, thrown under heavy piles of duvets with strangers made lovers in their beds, discarded clothes and cares cluttered around them in heaping masses. Hansol was one of those people, though Byungjoo liked to keep that thought out of his head.

Tonight though, Byungjoo had no trouble picking out people that could have stumbled straight from _Clockwork Orange_. There was a ridiculously tall man with a facial tattoo along the underside of his electric eye, his legs resembling twigs that he had slid into sheer tights. He had on the longest fake eyelashes Byungjoo had ever seen, and he was almost tempted to ask the man if he could touch them. He didn’t though, settling for a polite nod as he moved past him, dull in greys and blacks.

He saw another figure, about his height and curvy, her vibrantly blonde hair held back by various, shiny barrettes. Her lips were a glossy, eye-catching red and she was wearing a loose track suit that hinted only at the fact that she had limbs and nothing more. She saw him and dropped an eyelid in a wink, tinkling a wave over in his direction.

Byungjoo felt his face flush with high color. He smiled back, lifting his arm in response to the girl. “Hansol’s home,” she called, cupping her hands around her mouth so Byungjoo could hear her.

“What?” Byungjoo’s face grew even warmer as he stared at her in confusion.

She flicked her hair impatiently and squinted her eyes at him. “Aren’t you always the one I see walking to Hansol’s building?”

Byungjoo opened his mouth, then closed it again. “Ah, yeah,” he said quietly, suddenly embarrassed, turning and walking away. But why? Hansol was his _friend_ ; of course he’d go over there all the time. It’s what friends _did_.

 _What friends_ don’t _do is have the kinds of thoughts I do about Hansol_ , Byungjoo thought bitterly.

He reached Hansol’s apartment building with a sigh of relief, throwing his hood off his head and shaking his hair out. Pulling the key from his pocket, he let himself inside the door. The building was filled with a warm glow, and even standing in the lobby Byungjoo could hear the trickle of noise that came from every apartment come together in a dull echo that tickled his ears.

He climbed the steps, the popcorn rubbing together in his pocket, the keys dangling happily from his finger. Coming to a stop at Hansol’s door, Byungjoo slid his key off his finger once more and into the lock, opening the door with a flourish and a smile. He loved surprising Hansol.

Once he could see inside, though, his smile vanished from his face.

Hansol was leaning against his couch, his shirt off, head tilted to the side. His eyes were half lidded and his mouth was swollen and dark red, hanging open slightly. There was high color in his cheeks and his thick dark hair was ruffled. Jaehwa was leaning over him, his hands braced on each of Hansol’s hips, his leg between both of Hansol’s. His mouth on Hansol’s neck.

The air inside of Byungjoo’s throat seemed to get caught, like a conveyer belt slamming to a jerky, haste stop. His chest tightened to the point of pain and an icy prickliness descended over his body. As he went to inhale his lungs stuttered on the oxygen and he made a soft, choked sound.

Hansol’s eyes fluttered open slowly, his hand coming to rest on Jaehwa’s shoulder. He made eye contact with Byungjoo and he jerked back from Jaehwa suddenly, eyes wide, mouth open even further in surprise. Jaehwa turned in confusion, and his eyes landed on Byungjoo. At first there was surprise in his expression, but it was quickly overrun by the gloating, satisfied look that swiftly followed. He locked eyes with Byungjoo and refused to look away, his hands still protectively wrapped around Hansol’s quickly rising chest.

“Byungjoo,” Hansol began, and Byungjoo tore his eyes from Jaehwa, not sure why he was hurting this much, not sure why his chest seemed unable to take in air or pump his heart, only sure that the floor beneath him was not as steady as he had once believed and that it was time for him to _leave_.

“Can I talk with you,” Hansol went on, slowly detangling himself from Jaehwa, casting him one glance before returning to Byungjoo, “out in the hall?”

“Yeah, yes, of course,” the words stumbled, tripped from his mouth as if they were clumsy two year olds learning to ride bikes. He backed quickly out of the room, and Hansol followed him, shutting the door behind him. Once he turned and faced Byungjoo again, he was smiling.

“B, you perfect boy, you couldn’t have chosen a better time to give me a surprise visit,” he whispered quietly, laughing. “Jaehwa will eat this _up_. Then, hopefully, _me_ up.”

Byungjoo opened his mouth to say something, eyes trained hard on the ground and not on Hansol’s exposed skin, not on his swollen lips or the hickies beginning to dark his neck. “You know me,” he coughed out, sticking his hands quickly in his pockets.

Hansol frowned at the sound of his hands hitting the popcorn, and reached inside his pockets to pull out the packages. The feeling of his warm hand sliding against Byungjoo’s leg sent shivers down his calves. Hansol looked at the popcorn in confusion, then up at Byungjoo.

“I, uh,” he coughed, forcing his eyes back up to Hansol’s observant ones, “I brought popcorn and a movie. Uh, _The Dark Knight_.”

Hansol’s confusion broke under the layer of regret and guilt that passed over his features. “If you had come literally any other time but now, I would have _so_ been all over this,” Hansol waved the popcorn around in his hand, “but I’ve got Jaehwa in there waiting, probably getting hotter by the minute, and if I turn him down now this could be my last chance.”

Byungjoo’s chest stung and he nodded once, quickly, before muttering a quick ‘bye’ and making his way down the hall. He heard Hansol utter in surprise, and half expected him to follow. However, after another moment, he heard Hansol’s door open and close, the sound loud and final behind him.

____

The burn of liquor that slid down Byungjoo’s throat did little to distract his mind from what was going on a mere block or so away. He kept seeing Hansol’s flushed, pleased face, Jaehwa’s hands on his body. With every image he took another shot, burning and sharp, like it was liquid fire and he was trying to melt his molars into his jaw. He wasn’t, but he _was_ trying to drink himself to the point of unconsciousness so thick even a cold bucket of water couldn’t wake him from it.

He hadn’t picked the most ideal place to do it; he was surrounded by loud, thumping music that made his teeth rattle and his ears ache. The people surrounding him were not sad and sullen, but happy and carefree, dancing and swaying and touching. They shared one similarity, though: everyone in the club was _drunk_.

Byungjoo would have preferred to drink away his sorrows mournfully over a cold scotch in a quiet, smoky bar where the bartender would clean a clear cup while talking to him. Like a movie. He wanted this to be a movie moment; the heartbreak scene. He deserved a little well-placed cliché.

He set his head down on the slick glass counter, the rumble of the bass shaking against his forehead. The more he thought about it, though, his life had taken a horribly cliché turn. He had pretended to date his best friend, had vowed to _not_ fall for him, and, whoops, had.

Byungjoo smiled briefly, almost laughing. Of course he had fallen for Hansol.

Then he stopped, heart beating wildly, eyes flying open.

He had fallen for Hansol.

He sat up, looking around, prepared to see people staring at him in amazement. No one turned, no one paused dancing, not even the bartender seemed concerned at Byungjoo’s sudden rousing. He felt as though the world should be shouting along with him, raising its hands in exaltation, elation, in _something_ because suddenly everything made so much more sense.

It was as if Byungjoo had been at the eye doctor, sitting and staring out at the world, trying to decipher the far away words through a blurry lens, when suddenly the lens switched and it clicked into place.

 _Hansol_.

Byungjoo went to stand up, prepared to sprint to Hansol’s apartment, taken by an urge so strong that he forced his body out of his seat. His body, however, was not equipped to hold his weight when filled with the amount of alcohol he had just filled it with.

His knees buckled and he went straight back down, bypassing the chair and landing on the floor with a painful thud. He barely registered the pain, only the disgusted look a girl shot him, stepping over him quickly. Byungjoo blinked slowly, heavily, convinced that the floor wasn’t entirely straight, convinced that if only he could just stand up and make it out the door he’d be able to make it back to Hansol’s within five minutes.

The only problem, however, was that Byungjoo seemed unable to get up on his own, and no one near him seemed inclined to help him. He pushed his back against the metal bar, raising his hands to dizzily rub his eyes and missing. He’d sit it off, for a minute or two, and stage out a plan of attack.

From where he was sitting the world spun dizzily, a confusing blur of legs and colors, sparkles falling from dresses and eyelashes and sky high heels. It was loud and bright and colorful, much more pleasant than it had been before. The abrasive sound of the music had soothed its way into an electric beat and Byungjoo thought instantly, helplessly of Hansol.

Which reminded him.

He needed a plan of attack.

Hansol was a mere block and a half away, practically at his fingertips, and all Byungjoo needed to _do_ was tell Hansol everything; tell him how he felt, how he regretted previous decisions, and how he thought that Hansol should kiss him once he was done talking. It seemed solid enough, a steady guide.

Nodding to himself, Byungjoo pushed himself off the metal bar with great difficulty, nearly toppling forward for the second time and ending up back where he started. He grabbed for the chair closest to him, though, and was able to steady himself before he could do any more harm. 

The world lurched under him once more now that he was on his feet, a spinning maze before his eyes. He stumbled to the door of the club, barely making his way through the close knit bodies. Once he pushed out into the cool air of the night, he took a small breath of relief. While his balance hadn’t improved, the cloying, hot sensation from the club vanished in the crisp wind.

A couple stragglers lingered outside the club, some kissing, some smoking, others looking at their phones. Byungjoo ignored them as he continued walking towards Hansol’s apartment, moved by an unknown force inside his chest, something strong and bright and pure. The streets seemed less dismal, the stars blinking happily down at him as he shortened the distance between him and Hansol. Cars passing and peopling talking were his music this time around, though he could hardly concentrate on them. He was focusing most of his energy on putting one foot in front of the other without tripping himself up.

He kept picturing Hansol’s face as he told him. How his face would break out in a smile, how he would turn Jaehwa away, push him right out the door, and take Byungjoo right into his arms once more. His lips would be so soft, Byungjoo thought with a quickening in his step, they would be so _satisfying_.

Then _he_ could be the one to make Hansol’s mouth fall open in pleasure, _he_ could be the owner of the lips that left marks on Hansol’s neck, _he_ could be the one Hansol adored.

Byungjoo reached Hansol’s apartment unscathed through some form of dark magic, and let himself into the lobby. The noise had quieted slightly since his last visit, and there was no one in the lobby this time. Byungjoo’s heart rate spiked as he began to climb the stairs, each step sending a rush of adrenaline through his veins. Finally he reached Hansol’s door and threw it open. The living room was abandoned, a shirt strewn across the floor, but Byungjoo couldn’t care about that now because within minutes it would be _his_ shirt on the floor, not Jaehwa’s.

He stumbled into Hansol’s room, not sure what he was expecting but sure that what he saw was somehow not it. He knew, in the small part of his mind that was slowly waking up again, that it was no surprise that Jaehwa and Hansol were having sex.

It was just, he was _seeing_ it.

Byungjoo couldn’t take his eyes off the scene, not disturbed enough to flee in horror, but confused to the point of immobilization. As he stood there, reeking of alcohol and desperation, Hansol opened his eyes briefly, and when the latched onto Byungjoo for the second time that night, he was not pleased.

Byungjoo felt it in the pit of his stomach, the anger that was instantly on Hansol’s face, the shock, the embarrassment.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Hansol spit out, shoving Jaehwa off him with strong arms. Byungjoo thought quickly that he would very much like to be pinned down by those arms.

Jaehwa frowned in confusion, startled, then glanced over, too. Jaehwa, this time, was not smug as he stared at Byungjoo. He was _fuming_.

Byungjoo, though, still was unaffected by the massive amounts of fury being directed at him. His head was too full of bubbles and his mouth too full of words that he had to say.

So he opened it.

“Hansol I think I love you,” he began, and as he spoke he watched the color drain from Hansol’s face. “I think I love you as more than a friend, like more than a best friend too. I thought I didn’t, but I did, and I just didn’t want to think about it ever. It was so easy to not think about it. Ever since that night you kissed me it’s always been there, you know, like the confusion. I didn’t want to face it though. It was weird, it was scary. And you moved on so fast, it was almost like a phase. I ignored it and so did you and it was _good_. But then we started this whole thing, this whole stupid thing, and I began to realize what it felt like to have you be _mine_ , even if it was just fake. I started to get jealous, and I told myself it was because Jaehwa was a major dick. I started to think about you, your lips, what it would feel like to have you share a bed with me outside of sleeping.”

Byungjoo took a breath, only able to focus on Hansol’s still, shocked face.

“And then I kissed you again and then it got worse and worse and then tonight when I came here to see you, to _be_ with you and you turned me away I wanted to _smash_ something. You should be turning _him_ away,” Byungjoo said, pointing his finger roughly at Jaehwa, “not me.”

Hansol’s mouth was working, forming around words he never planned on saying. His eyes were wide and directed on Byungjoo, calculating and tentative, and there was no smile. In fact, there wasn’t even a slight hint of satisfaction from the boy’s face, no small sign that anything Byungjoo had said gave him pleasure.

Jaehwa was staring at Byungjoo, too. Then he turned to Hansol with a disbelieving look.

“You weren’t dating him?” He asked, his eyes narrowed.

Hansol cast his glance momentarily over at Jaehwa before returning it to Byungjoo. His eyes were still on him when he answered, “No, I wasn’t.”

Jaehwa made a surprised, angry sound. “Why the fuck did you tell me you were dating him then?”

Hansol tore his gaze away from Byungjoo again to stare at Jaehwa with a slightly disbelieving stare. “Why? Jaehwa, darling, you wouldn’t have even _considered_ me if I had told you I was single.”

Jaehwa’s face flushed a dark, angry red and he glared at Hansol. “That’s fucked up,” he spit, pulling his clothes on quickly. He exited the room for his shirt, and Hansol watched him leave with a bemused expression. The door slammed not long after Jaehwa left the room, and Byungjoo and Hansol were alone.

The space seemed to shrink, pulling them closer together. Hansol turned back to Byungjoo, who, now that they were alone, allowed his hope to grow once more.

“Byungjoo, you’re drunk,” Hansol said shortly, looking very unimpressed.

Opening his mouth, Byungjoo was unable to speak. His heart, which had previously been floating somewhere around his ears, dropped like a lead balloon. That was not the reaction he had been hoping for.

“I might be a little,” Byungjoo began, fear killing the buzz in his head. “But that doesn’t change the truth of what I’m trying to tell you. Hansol, I –“

Hansol cut him off with a hand. “Byungjoo,” Hansol said, and this time he sounded slightly panicked. “please. You’re drunk and probably won’t remember this tomorrow, so please spare me the emotional torment of hearing you say those words again and go home. I’ll try my best to forget tonight, but please _leave_.”

Byungjoo frowned, confused. Hansol hadn’t spoken to him like that in a long time. He clearly didn’t _understand_. If he could just speak clearly, formulate his thoughts.

“Hansol, no, that’s not,” Byungjoo tried, the floor tilting under him suddenly. “I’m not going to forget this, Hansol, you can’t forget a feeling like this. I made a mistake, when you tried to kiss me. I regret it, and I’m _sorry_. I want you, I want you to kiss me, I _love_ you.”

Hansol sucked in a quick, harsh breath and the color left his face again. He looked devastated, though Byungjoo couldn’t begin to guess why.

“ _Leave_ , Byungjoo, please,” Hansol asked, desperate now, thrusting his hand towards the door.

It registered then, that Hansol did not want him. He did not want him there in his apartment, in his love life, and currently, in his _life_. Byungjoo’s chest constricted so swiftly and painfully that he almost gasped. He turned stiffly and walked out of Hansol’s room, then his apartment, shutting the door quietly behind him.

He pressed his fingers against the door momentarily, leaning heavily on it for support and trying to fight the growing fear that was welling unstoppably inside him.

He took a cab home. The way back was not so colorful, the stars still, dim bulbs in the sky, the wind cold and snapping on his exposed skin.

He walked robotically into his apartment and fell, exhausted into bed. He closed his eyes and was pulled blissfully into the unconsciousness he had been seeking all night.


End file.
